Not Lost, Although I Long To Be
by Erik The Red Death
Summary: A one-shot, taken from the diary of Christine Daae. Written on the night of Erik's proposal, in the comfort of the Louis-Philippe room. What is going through her mind that night? And what if it had ended differently? Kay-inspired.


I am not yours, not lost in you,

Not lost, although I long to be

Lost as a candle lit at noon,

Lost as a snowflake in the sea.

You love me, and I find you still

A spirit beautiful and bright,

Yet I am I, who long to be

Lost as a light is lost in light.

Oh plunge me deep in love—put out

My senses, leave me deaf and blind,

Swept by the tempest of your love,

A taper in a rushing wind.

-Sara Teasdale-

_From the personal journal of Christine Daae, September of 1881_

I am entirely unable to sleep tonight, a very rare occasion during my stays in the house on the lake. In fact, I find myself entirely stunned by this fact until I recall what has transpired before I retired to my bedroom.

Erik has asked me to marry him. Although I was not entirely unprepared for his proposal - as he has confessed his love to me on several occasions as of late - the shock of its implications is now causing me much distress. I am nearing nineteen years of age, and while I am now considered within the age of appropriate marriage, I have never given much thought on what the tradition might hold for me. Of course, I had the girlish dreams of a white dress and a beautiful cathedral, but after the death of my father left me a young orphan with no financial or class significance, this fantasy was cast from my mind entirely. I truly believed - and still believe - that no man would ever truly want me as a wife. I know now that Erik wants me more than I can ever know, but I fear to know if it is because he cannot hope for anyone better. The horror of his face has isolated him completely from humanity, and thus I believe he gave up hope long ago of ever finding a mate. I find myself thinking that his physical appearance should factor more significantly into my decision, but I cannot find myself dwelling too heavily on it. I have never considered myself a particularly vain girl, and while I did find his face to be truly terrifying during my first introduction to it, there is so much more to Erik that needs to be considered. The startling complexity of this man makes my head spin.

In other thoughts, the death of my father spurred me more than ever before to continue my musical study at a conservatory, according to his last wishes. During my time there, I became quite emotionally numb with my grief and loneliness. How I managed to procure a position with the company, I will never know, but never mind that now. If I hadn't, I would not have met Erik.

I do not know if I should be grateful that Erik has come into my life: our meeting was entirely due to chance and fate, and I am wholly convinced that it had nothing to do with me at all. I was in my first months with the company, in the chorus, and neither my voice nor my personality held any significant or alluring quality. I did not stand out in any particular way, and heaven knows that no one of importance to the company knew my name. And yet, Erik found something special in me, buried deeply behind layers of mediocrity and the painful shyness I had procured during those months. He came into my life in a whirlwind of magic and sound, and - so desperately needing someone to believe in me - I allowed myself to be swept up by the strong tide of his genius.

I hardly know myself when I am with Erik now. The time that we spend singing makes the hours pass by like mere moments, and I can feel my voice grow stronger by the day. The conservatory had left me with nearly perfect technique, but Erik has told me that it crushed my spirit and hampered any artistry I hoped to bring to the music I wished to create. During our lessons, he was always concerned supremely with the faultlessness of my vocation, but he came to teach me much more than I ever imagined. He taught me to feel again.

Emotion not only flowed back into my voice, long abandoned by the passive state in which I lived my years of silent mourning, but I was forced to face the wicked truth of his tutelage: I could no longer live my life in the shadow of apathy which surrounded me so gracefully in a shroud of security. I yearned for knowledge and experience like a man starved, blooming towards the sun like a sunflower after a long winter. And, rather ironically, Erik is my sun. For a man spending most of his years in darkness and shadow, he has become the beacon calling my lost mind home. He has given me everything these last few months, and has forever changed who I am and how I view the world around me. It is terrifying, to say the least, how much his presence can change a person. Even if I refuse his proposal, spurn the countless hours I have spent by his side, I will never be able to return to who I once was.

He has given me everything, and yet this gift comes with a price. He has the most horrible temper, and almost anything can replace his normal tenderness with fiery fury. It terrifies me so, even now, but even more so in the beginning. His wicked temper manifested itself as intense impatience while I knew him as the Angel of Music: he demanded nothing less than absolute perfection and unwavering obedience to his will. Now, while my stays in the house on the lake are mostly nothing but comfortable, there is something that I yearn for more than his leniency. I can go without seeing the sun for days, weeks at a time. In truth, it is the sun that I miss the most, and perhaps that is why Raoul de Chagny maintains such a pull on my heart. Though, more on him a little later, I think.

I was raised on sunlight and open fields in the Swedish countryside, traveling with my father from one fair to the next for his violin performances. Although we often obtained lodging in inns - and even barns in the harsh wintertime - I much preferred sleeping under the stars during the fair summer months, wrapped in blankets and dreaming on my papa's shoulder. Those years were ones of peace, and while I knew nothing of luxury or extravagance, I was happier than I have ever been. Well, that isn't exactly true - my time with Erik had brought me more joy than I could ever know, but the happiness of my childhood was experienced with a lens of innocence that most certainly contrasts the emotion I face now. Yes, I would consider them two different types of happiness: the naive innocence of childhood, and the wonder I experience at the sound of his voice. His voice…

Language completely evades the unearthly majesty that is Erik's voice. I wish I could describe the quality on paper in order to preserve it for history, but any words which I attempt to use do complete injustice. When he sings, it is like time stops. I cease to hear myself think, and I am sure that I cease to breathe while under the spell of his song. In those moments, I surrender completely to him, doing whatever he tells me with a blind obedience that would terrify me if it were not for the unyielding formality in his manners. Yes, even with his unpredictable temper and unrelenting strictness, I am convinced that he could never hurt me. In his times of tenderness, he really is as gentle as a lamb, hardly daring to touch me as if I could crumble like Venetian glass. The highest form of earthly bliss I have experienced is when his voice, so hypnotically tranquil, sings me to sleep. Each time this occurs, without fail, I wake in the morning tucked under the bedcovers of the Louis-Philippe room, undoubtedly by Erik's hand. I trust him completely, and as such, I know that I need to reply to his proposal. He deserves such a dignity.

Raoul has told me on several occasions that Erik does not deserve such a kindness, and though I usually trust his judgement, I cannot find it in my heart to believe him. Of course, he only knows what I tell him of Erik, and I admit that I have not given a very convincing testimony of Erik's character. In any case, I should find it quite helpful to write about Raoul now. Raoul de Chagny is, without a doubt, everything a girl would look for in an eligible bachelor. He is tall and well-built, incredibly handsome, and as kind as an angel. He is sweet and gentle and… safe. He is wonderfully safe, and I think that is what enchants me most about him. Erik, I have seen, is much akin to a roaring inferno: unpredictable, sporadic, and frighteningly passionate. With the greediness of flame, he takes everything in his wake, irreversibly changing everything in the path of his genius. I, certainly, am no exception. But Raoul… My sweet, predictable Raoul. Stable and steady, like the ocean waves. I have no doubt of his love for me… But, that is just it! Raoul and I knew each other as children, and thus, our love is hindered by the innocence of our youth.

There would be a time, only six months ago, where I would be completely content with the innocent, youthful love that Raoul is so eager to bestow upon me. There was a time when I, too, was like water, content to follow the same path each day on the shore of what would be a comfortable, yet wholly unsatisfying life. But now, for lack of better analogy, Erik has lit a fire within me, one which I am certain no amount of ocean water will extinguish. Raoul has begged me endlessly to run away with him, to leave Paris and its horrors behind. I am unsure if I am capable of doing such a thing. Despite my love for him, I have always understood that he belongs to a world in which my presence would be entirely unwelcome. I cannot help the circumstances of my birth, the class I was assigned through my lineage, and my sweet Raoul understands that. But, his family does not. His brother certainly does not, and neither will his peers. By marrying me, he will effectively isolate himself, and by result, me as well. With all the love that I have in my heart for him, I know better than to do that to him. And of course, I have Erik to think about now. Even before his proposal, I understood fully that my departure would surely kill him. Even now, I know that he does not have much longer to live.

Yes, Erik is dying. He told me this fact tonight, as he asked for my hand, promising that he would live no longer than six months past today's date. I could always refuse, despite these circumstances, but I find this a possibility quite hard to choose. Even taking into account his fury, his temper, and everything else that makes Erik himself, I don't think I would be able to leave him before his time. I could spend those coming months above, soaking in the sunlight and fresh air, knowing well that my mentor and closest companion was waiting to die alone. The guilt alone would surely kill me faster than his illness killed him. Or, I could spend these months lost in the sweeping tide of his music, soaking in as much of his essence as I can, before he leaves me to face the world alone. While the idea sounds so utterly terrifying, I cannot say it is one I can refuse. I am afraid I am bound to him, body and mind, for eternity. I have a feeling he knows this as well.


End file.
